


give me my chance and give me my wings

by sopattable



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Fruits and Vegetables, I never intended that to be a necessary tag but it is, M/M, Pippin - Freeform, Secret Santa, University AU, captain niall, musical theatre, smut-free!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopattable/pseuds/sopattable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry never really wanted to put a name to the face…or the ass… but now he has it, and now he has to buy it a present.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A University AU where Harry’s a music student, Louis takes theatre, and Niall’s the captain of Secret Santa and relationships. Also included is singing, pranks, and way too many fruits and vegetables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me my chance and give me my wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) The prompt for this fic was that Harry and Louis were both in a Secret Santa gift exchange, and the people they were assigned to for the exchange were also indicated to me (but I don't want to give it away, because Louis' assignment isn't revealed until the end!). I hope this is cute and lovely and enjoyable! It's a little bit strange and ridiculous, but I think in a funny way, and I hope you enjoy it :) Also, I literally said in my sign-up that whatever I wrote would definitely be under 10k because I didn't have time for more, but I guess I got a tiny bit inspired.
> 
> Two important notes - 
> 
> 1) This fic is _based on a real university_ but that university is not in the UK. So, if you live in the UK, you will not having any idea which university this is. The story does, however, take place in the UK, so let's just pretend I picked up the university it's based on and just plopped it down in the middle, shall we? :) 
> 
> 2) This fic uses some music from Pippin, because Harry is helping Louis with an audition. I've heard people say Pippin would be a great role for Louis before, and after having seen the musical I wholeheartedly agree. If you're not familiar with the musical at all, that's fine, and you won't miss anything, but it wouldn't hurt to take a peek at the two songs that are used as they come up if you want to! If you want to take a peek though, they are the following:
> 
> [ With You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DD-3NP1wwo&list=PL3mB7o9v9rgbJNQ2AZQVQi4jzsWQLOAgi&index=4) and [Extraordinary](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2840V9rUMQ&index=7&list=PL3mB7o9v9rgbJNQ2AZQVQi4jzsWQLOAgi)
> 
> Enjoy, and all the best to each and every one of you :)
> 
> PS - louisemoji and anchoredlou also both inspired parts of this story. They are strange parts of the story, but I love them (both the parts of the story, and the people)
> 
> PPS - Title is from Extraordinary

**Monday, November 24 th, 2014**

It’s Monday night at Murphy’s Pub, and that means Open Mic Night. As the faithful group of attendees awaits the next act, Harry finds himself casually glancing around the room. If his eyes happen to briefly settle on a particularly attractive arse leaning up against the bar, well, that’s neither here nor there.  Harry enjoys hearing other musicians, but he tends to find the bar gets a little bit too crowded on Mondays, and it makes him feel a tiny bit antsy. To make matters worse, for some reason the bar has decided to blast some weird pop/rock/metal hybrid music between musical acts and the bar is bustling for all the wrong reasons. Smokers are slipping out for smokes, and people are talking even louder than usual as if to try to drown it out. Harry never misses a Monday night, however, because this is his one chance to perform material that isn’t for his degree. As fun as opera can be, it would never be his career path of choice.

As Harry is lost in thought, Niall slides into the booth next to him, knocking against his guitar. “Soooo are you coming to my Christmas party?”

“Niall, it’s November. How am I supposed to know what I’m doing in uh…when’s the party again?”

“December 13th,” Niall tells him. “It’s gonna be great. “

“I’m sure it will, and I _think_ I’ll probably be there…”

“I need a yes or no, Harry. We’re doing Secret Santa, and what would happen if your poor person was left without a gift? That wouldn’t be cool.”

Harry frowns. “Okay, well, I guess I can promise to at least stop by. I don’t know what else I have that night, considering it’s  _almost three weeks away_ , Niall, but whatever.”

Niall pulls out a snapback from behind his back and, with a flourish, displays it to Harry. “Alright, Harry, pick a name, any name.”

Harry peers into the hat, but Niall pulls it away before he can see anything specific among the slips of paper. “There aren’t many names in here,” Harry observes.

“That’s ‘cause you’re one of the last people to pick!”

Harry reluctantly pulls out a piece of paper, and unfurls it gently. “The name is Lou—“….is Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson. The name is vaguely familiar to Harry, but he’s not sure why. He  can’t put a face to the name, and he certainly has no idea what to get him for Christmas. Maybe he could knit him a beanie or something. Or bake cookies.

“Shh! Don’t say it out-loud. People might hear it. This is  _Secret_  Santa.“ This is a bit absurd considering the noise in the bar but Harry obliges.

“I don’t even know this guy,” Harry tells Niall with a frown. “How am I supposed to get him a great gift if I don’t even know who he is?” 

Niall shrugs. “A gift is a gift. It’s just an exchange, and no one will really care if it’s a mediocre gift. Just give him something. All in good fun. Just don’t knit him a hat or some bullshit.” Harry resents that comment - his hats are quite nice, thank you.

Harry has a ton of questions for Niall, but Niall wraps him in a quick hug before running off to another section of the bar. Harry loves Niall, but he really doesn’t understand him. Niall somehow manages to know everyone, be everywhere at once, and show up every place Harry can possibly imagine, yet he still has the time to hold good friendships and be there for people. Harry doesn’t really know all that much about him, aside from his general personality, because rumours seem to bounce off him like rubber, and the only stories he usually tells about himself are typically pretty easy-going and bland. Harry isn’t even certain what Niall’s major is, because he takes classes in every single faculty, and has even taken a few with Harry. When he’d once asked Niall about this, Niall had just laughed and Harry… well, Harry  just didn’t bother trying to ask again. Harry takes a gentle sip from his pint and looks across the table at his other friends.

Sandy, Josh and Ed are chatting among themselves,  complaining about the noise while adding to it. Harry could join in the conversation, but instead he decides to discover who exactly is the infamous Louis Tomlinson. Pulling out his phone, he types the name into the search bar on facebook, and the name pops up, with 15 mutual friends, including, evidently, a grinning Niall. Harry clicks through to the actual profile as he takes a sip of his drink, and nearly chokes when he sees the man’s profile picture.

Oh. Oh.  _OH. That’s_  Louis Tomlinson. That guy. The guy who he’s been admiring whenever he sees him around campus, the guy who was so attractive and amazing in that play the theatre company put on, and yes, the guy who’s definitely, probably not on purpose, been the subject of just a few late night wank sessions. He never really wanted to put a name to the face…or the ass… but now he has it and now he has to buy it a present. Funny how things work out that way. He scrolls through the next few pictures: Louis Tomlinson, laughing with friends while wearing a silly costume; Louis Tomlinson, standing on the edge of a building; Louis Tomlinson, looking shockingly good in drag; Louis Tomlinson looking like the world’s hottest model in a headshot….and a shirtless body shot. Basically, all Harry gets from this is ‘Louis Tomlinson: really fucking sexy.’ Okay. Alright. 

 “You okay Harry? Looks like someone shot your puppy!”

Harry looks up at Ed with wide-eyes. “I’m fine…” he says slowly. “I just got someone who might be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen assigned to me for Secret Santa.”

 Ed laughs. He’s always so good natured, and Harry can appreciate that in a room-mate and best mate. “Sounds like a good time to me, mate,” he tells Harry. “But you better collect yourself soon, because you’re on in 20 minutes.” 

 Ah yes. The whole reason Harry was there, the whole reason for the whole evening was coming up, and he’d almost forgotten. “Right,” he says slowly. “I’ll do that. Thanks bud.”

 He slides out of the booth and to the back room to grab his guitar and strum a few chords as warm-up, but he struggles to focus, mind drifting elsewhere. Even as he performs, 20 minutes later, he finds his mind drifting to the boy whose name he’d drawn out of the hat. Once he gets off-stage, to Harry’s confusion, Ed says he’s never performed better.

 

**Wednesday, November 26 th, 2014**

Harry is sitting at a table in the Student Union Building, a green smoothie from the school's new smoothie bar menacingly sitting in front of his textbook. He likes vegetables, really he does, but he doesn't particularly like his beverages to be green. He also doesn't particularly like the fact that his textbook is so _boring_ , and he doesn't understand why he needs to know so much about Music History. Truth is, the prospect of making history in music is much much more fascinating than studying the guys who have done it before, because truly, society has changed enough that using their models of success just wouldn't be useful anymore. Maybe if he was studying _modern_ music history, like the stuff from the 20th and earlier 21st century, but reading about Monteverde and Haydn and Handel is just more than he can....handle. Harry giggles to himself. A world of music puns never gets old, even if his classmates strongly disagree.

 Harry has barely studied in the past 48 hours because watching Louis, who happens to be everywhere, is much more interesting. He now knows Louis does not like the smoothie bar ('If I wanted to eat something that looks like vomit I'd eat vomit'), Louis seems to know everyone, and Louis is, well, even more flamboyant than he'd previously thought. And somehow more attractive. Louis' cheekbones should probably be illegal, and he shouldn't even be thinking about his arse half as much as he currently does. He especially shouldn't be thinking about his arse because he doesn't really know if Louis is even...

 "He's definitely gay,." Niall says, sliding into the seat beside Harry. "Just so you know."

 "I...what?"

 "Don't even tell me you weren't staring at his arse. I have eyes, Styles. And he does too, so if he turns around and sees you staring... well actually knowing Tommo he'd probably be flattered. He's quite fond of that arse of his." Niall laughs. "Then, alright, go on. Keep staring. All is good."

 Harry sighs. "I have no idea what to get him for Secret Santa," he tells him. "I'm just watching so I can figure it out. And if he happens to have a nice arse, well sue me."

 "You know, most guys wouldn't mind some pints, pizza, crisps, or perhaps a date with a cute guy," Niall tells him, and Harry scrunches his nose.

 "Well, yes, but you know me, and you know that I just have to find the perfect gift. Like that's a thing. I'm _good_ at giving gifts. Like the time my sister kept talking about how she wanted a pet fish, and I decided that I should go to the pet store and get her a pet fish for Christmas. Of course, the fish died overnight and she cried when she unwrapped the bowl but..."

 "Riveting story, Styles," Niall says, rising to his feet and giving him a good hard pat on the back. "I've gotta jet but try to get some studying done. I've heard that Professor Boyd is going to ask for exact dates on the test tomorrow. Better get memorizing!"

 "What?? Nooo!" Harry exclaims, looking down at his textbook with a horrified look.

 "Sorry bro! See you later!"

 "See you.... wait! Since when are you in my class?"

 "I'm everywhere, Styles. _Everywhere_." And with a cackle, Niall runs out the door, and Harry is left alone, with his book and smoothie.

 He looks around the sub for the beautiful man he'd been observing, but he's nowhere to be found. Looks like he may have to actually study. Joy.

 

**Thursday, November 27th, 2014**

Harry is running late for a group meeting, and while it's not the most important of meetings, he really hates being late. Like, despises it. He's not sure if it's because his mother was always quite laid back and sometimes made him arrive late for things like football practice (and perhaps if he had gotten those extra 7 minutes of practice per week as a kid, he would be a lot better at football), but regardless he now hates being late. When he looks at his watch and sees it says 1:59 and he still has a long hallway and two flights of stairs to conquer, he has half a mind to break into a sprint right in the middle of the music building. 

He might not be paying the most attention to where he's going when he slams into something, _hard,_  and both he and the something tumble to the ground.

"Ah, shit," he murmurs, as he scrambles to pick up his papers and binder."Oops, god, I'm so sorry, I was just..."

"Don't even worry about it," a familiar voice says, and Harry finds himself pondering just for a second, why the voice is familiar, when suddenly he's staring straight into the beautiful face and bright blue eyes of a certain handsome lad. The very same handsome lad he's been quasi-stalking for the past 4 days.

"Wait... I know you! You're Harry!" Louis exclaims with a grin. When he sees what is probably a very bewildered and alarmed look on Harry's face, he pauses. "You _are_  Harry Styles, right?"

"Uh... yes!" Harry agrees, startled. "The one and only! Well, probably, I'm not really sure. Both Harry, and Styles are fairly common names, so I suppose there's probably another one of me out there somewhere in the world if you look hard enough, maybe even two or thr--"

"Wow, how cool that I'd run into you like this. Like, literally run into you. Haha! Wait, Jesus, are you okay?" Louis hops to his feet and extends a hand to Harry, which Harry gratefully takes, pulling himself off the ground in the smoothest motion he can muster. "I just _have_ to say that I am a  _big_  fan! Your songs are so good that it would be absolutely criminal for someone not to sign you. Could I have your autograph? I know it's going to be worth a lot of money someday."

Louis Tomlinson is staring at Harry right in the flesh, and he knows Harry's name, and Harry is absolutely 100% embarrassed and his words aren't quite coming out. He's also late for the meeting and he only sort of cares.

"I uh.... oh, well, thanks," he says finally, taking the paper Louis is extending towards him and scrawling his name on it. He resists the urge to add his number as well. "Actually, I've never signed a signature before, except on documents and cards and stuff, so this is... well it's a first. Thanks uh..."

"Louis," Louis says, extending a hand, which Harry shakes in turn. Louis' skin is soft. He likes it. Crap. "Louis Tomlinson. Theatre major."

"Uh yes, actually I've seen some of your plays! You're quite good. I have half a mind to ask you for your autograph as well."

"Well, if you insist," Louis responds, grabbing Harry's pen and scrawling his name right onto the front page of Harry's binder, finishing it off with a smiley-face. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No, not at all, but uh, I have a meeting in a few minutes.."

"Okay, I'll be quick. See, I'm a friend of Niall's..." Oh no. Harry may have to smack Niall later. Or thank him, depending on how well this goes. Could go either way at the moment. "And, he told me that you might be able to help me out. See, the theatre department is putting on a musical next semester, and truth be told I'm a bit nervous that I'll make an arse of myself at the audition since I've barely sung since high school. I was wondering if you'd be willing to listen to me sing, and, if I'm rubbish which I probably am, give me a few pointers!"

Harry pouts slightly. "So, when you asked for my autograph, you were trying to convince me to help. I see how it is."

"What? No! Not at all. Well maybe a little. Mainly I actually wanted your autograph because, I really am a fan. But if you could help me, I'd be forever grateful! I'm a wee bit broke, but I'd buy you a pint or two as payment."

Louis doesn't have to butter Harry up. Truth is that if Louis said "jump" Harry wouldn't even ask how high at this point because he'd already be on his feet doing his best attempt. He's so far up Louis' ass, although he wouldn't mind being up a bit further..

Harry smiles. "I wouldn't mind that at all," he tells Louis. "When are you free?" As he finishes speaking he looks down. 2:03. "Ahh shit, I'm late for my meeting. I gotta run!"

"Here!" Louis says quickly, grabbing Harry's arm and scrawling 10 digits on it. "Text me. We'll sort it out."

"Uh, yeah! Yeah. Totally. Later. We'll talk," Harry stammers glancing down at his arm, in shock. "Good. Okay. Yeah. Good. Uh...bye!" He gives a little wave as he sprints the rest of the way down the hall and to the meeting room.

Three of the lads are sitting around the room chatting, and they look up as Harry bursts in. "Oh, nice of you to join us, Styles," Josh says, and Harry stammers out an apology.

"I'm _so_ sorry... I didn't mean..."

"We might have to kick you out of the group if you don't shape up," Sandy says with a straight face, and Harry must have looked terribly stricken because Josh speaks up almost immediately.

"No, but seriously bro, it's fine. We hadn't even started yet. It's just so unlike you to be late that I had to poke a little fun. All's good."

"Okay, good," Harry says, sliding into his seat. "I'm still really sorry."

"We were literally just talking about life. And girls."

"Damn, and I missed it? You know girls are my favourite topic." The boys laugh, which is a nice change because no one really seems to understand Harry's sense of humour. 

"How are you going on the dating front, anyway?"

"I mean, don't we have work to do...I.."

Dan grabs Harry's arm. "Is that a phone number?" 

"What? No. Maybe. I mean.. Yes. But not _that_  kind of phone number. It's just for working on something. Not a date."

"Not a cute boy?"

Harry's poker face is beyond terrible and he knows it, so he doesn't even try to lie. "No, it's definitely a cute boy. But it's not like _that_  kind of number. I'm just helping him with a singing thing. Not romantic." He pauses. "I'm just giving him a hand."

Sandy snickers.

"That wasn't even meant to be an innuendo!" The boys shake their heads, and Harry scrunches his nose. “Well, let’s ignore the artwork on my arm, and get down to business. We have work to do.” The others grumpily agree, and they begin their work. If Harry has trouble focussing, well, no one can really blame him.

——

Harry climbs the stairs to his and Ed’s apartment with a big grin on his face, and plops himself down on the couch. Ed is pulling a pizza from the oven which doesn’t have nearly enough vegetables on it for his standards, but he’ll eat whatever. Ed takes one look at Harry, and bursts into a grin. “So, you met a boy, huh?”

“…How?” is all Harry manages to say. He and Ed know each other well, but that sort of realization is borderline creepy.

“Got a big smile on yer face, and a number written on yer arm in sharpie,” Ed chuckles. “Plus I know that ‘I met a boy’ face anywhere.”

“I haven’t met _that_ many boys since you’ve known me _,_ ” Harry pouts. “Also how do you know it’s not a girl? All genders are good with me.”

“It’s your ‘I met a boy face’,” Ed shrugs. “I can’t explain it. It was a boy though, right?”

“Right,” Harry sighs wistfully, “Definitely a boy. Definitely gorgeous. Definitely amazing. Definitely made me late…for a meeting.”

“Who was it? Someone I might know?”

Harry frowns slightly. “Yeah, uh, you know that guy I’ve been stalking for Secret Santa? Might be him. Actually, in fact, it’s definitely him. Louis Tomlinson?”

“Ah yes. The guy with the nice arse.” Ed nods knowingly as he slides pizza onto a plate for himself, and, at Harry’s acknowledgement, onto one for Harry as well.

“Have I really spoken about him that much?” 

“Yes.” Ed hands Harry the plate. “He sounds like a sound lad. Did he ask you on a date?”

“No, actually, he asked me to help him with an audition.”

“So, like a date, without the commitment?” Ed laughs.

“No, more like a favour, I think,” Harry considers. “He is quite cute, and Niall says he’s gay, but it’s probably nothing. Just cause I like any gender doesn’t mean I’m into everyone, right?”

“Yeah but you’re cute. He’ll be into you,” Ed prods Harry playfully.

“Says the straight lad!”

“Hey I can appreciate aesthetics, straight or not,” Ed winks, and Harry giggles. “So anyway, are you going to text him? Or wait for him to text first?”

“Well, he doesn’t have my number, so… guess I’m gonna have to.”

Harry grabs his phone from his pocket, types the number in, and begins a text. “Hiiii. This is Harry. xx”

A response comes back almost instantly. “Hey. This is Johnny. How did ya get my number?”

Harry stares. “Oh, I’m sorry! I must have gotten the wrong number. Ignore these messages. xx”

“Aha im just fooling with you. This is LOUIS ! Whats happenin ?!”

“Just being lads I guess.”

“Cool ! So when are you free to meet-up ? If you’re still good for that ? We’re still doing a lot of shows for the play this term so Im a bit knackered, but I could do after a show, say, 10? Is that too late ?”

Harry thinks for a moment before responding. “Sounds great. When are you free?”

“Good question ! I could do pretty much any night this week, even tonight or tomorrow.”

Harry considers his schedule, before sending back a quick, “Tomorrow? In the music auditorium upstairs?”

“Sounds like a plan, ha ! Gotta go get in costume now, but see you tomorrow, H! xx”

A nickname already? And two kisses? Harry giggles, and Ed gives him a knowing look.

“See you tomorrow. xx”

Harry sighs as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, but when he glances up, Ed is looking at him with a smirk. “So, it’s a date,” he asks.

“Not a date! Just an occasion for me to see what I can get him for Secret Santa!” Harry protests.

“And…?”

“And to help him with his audition.”

“Annnnnnd…?”

“And to… look at his arse and his beautiful blue and eyes and listen to his voice and melt a little….” Ed starts to laugh. “Oh shut up.”

“Hey, if you have a little crush, it might help you write some more songs. You’re always complaining you don’t have enough inspiration,” Ed nudges him gently, and Harry frowns.

“Yeah, but like, how could I ever live up to the beauty that is Louis Tomlinson? I swear he was carved by the gods or something. He’s stunning. A little short. But stunning,” Harry complains. “How can I capture that?”

“Maybe write about how you can’t capture it. About how it’s beyond you. A la Tal Bachmann, ‘She’s So High’, except with original ideas and without the she,” Ed responds casually, finishing the crust of his pizza. “You can handle it.”

Truth is, if anyone can handle it, it’s Ed. Harry doesn’t know how Ed does it, but he’s practically a miracle worker. His songs always just..capture the reality of the human condition and Harry is super supportive, but also jealous in a sort of longing way. He’s also probably going about this whole “singer-songwriter” thing the right way because instead of taking music as a major and learning all this useless classical shit, he’s majoring in business to help himself get out there in the world, and taking vocal and theory lessons on the side. That seems to be going very well for his EP, which sold out of all 100 physical CDs he made on the first night he promoted it, and Harry is pretty confident that Ed will have no problem making it in the world of music. He’s totally supportive of this, given that Ed’s music is fantastic, but still kind of wishes the future held this for him as well. Maybe someday it will, if he can just grasp something deeper in his songs.

There’s clearly something missing, probably because his own emotional depth is pretty weak right now. That’s what Susan, his vocal teacher always tells him too - he’s lacking something in the emotional arias, in the laments, in the angry recits. She tells him again and again that he has to _feel_ the piece, _feel_ the emotions, _feel_ the energy, but all Harry feels is tired, a little nervous, and on occasion kind of excited. He also sort of feels like he’s missing a piece sometimes.

He sits down with his guitar later that evening, when he’s supposed to be studying for philosophy (why does he take all the boring classes? He can’t even think of _that_ matter philosophically.), and strums a few chords, and scribbles down a few lyrics.

“Could he even know that maybe I’m a person just like him? Could he even know that I could be the one to help him settle in? Could I help him with his goals in life and make him realize, that maybe somewhere out there, he’s looking for someone just like me.”

Harry crumples the paper into a ball. Stupid romantic pining shit. Nothing quality or unique there. Ed would wax poetically about lacks of tans on fourth fingers, while Harry would be like, ‘wedding ring’. He’s clearly lacking the creative genius to pull this off. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. 

 

**Friday, November 28th, 2014**

Harry really shouldn’t be nervous when he goes to meet Louis at 10pm, but he is. He’s also twenty minutes early, which definitely wasn’t intentional, but he was anxiously pacing back and forth at his apartment, and Ed was trying to do some songwriting. Usually on rainy days like today Harry would snuggle himself up on the couch, watching some Netflix and drinking some homemade hot chocolate (with milk, cocoa, and honey - yum!), but today for once he didn’t mind throwing a cozy sweater under his rain jacket and making the hike up the hill to the music building, splashing in the puddles with his bright yellow wellies. Why? Because today he was going to be in the same room as Louis Tomlinson and that was all kinds of awesome.

“Edddddd I don’t know what to do. What if he thinks I’m weird?” Harry texts Ed as he sits cross-legged on the stage. 

Ed responds quickly. “I think he asked you to listen to him sing! You should just do that.”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“He’s cute. You’re cute. Maybe you’ll flirt. Maybe you’ll snog. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe you’ll accidentally trip over a cord and fall off the stage.”

“Heyyyyyyyy. Just because that happened at Murphy’s last week doesn’t mean it will happen again!”

“Relax. It will be fine.”

“But what if”

As Harry types he hears a voice clearing from above, and he looks up to see Louis standing there, looking quite amused. “Gotta go. xx” He types quickly, before standing and greeting Louis warmly.

“Oh hi, Louis,” he says. Okay, maybe that wasn’t as warm a greeting as he wanted, but he’s slightly startled.

“Well, hello Harold. Fancy seeing you here this evening.” Louis is oh-so pretty. And charming.

“Well, you did ask if we could meet.”

“I’m just fooling with ya. Anyway, practice got out early, so it’s sweet that you’re here already!”

“Well, my practice got out early too, so that’s why I’m here.” What the hell? Harry clearly has no idea how to conduct himself in front of cute boys, and that’s probably why he’s been single for the past two years. 

“It did? Your practice for what?”

“Uh… singing…stuff,” Harry stammers. He’s never been a good liar, and he has no idea why he’s actually lying. 

“So you’ve just been waiting here?”

“Yep, just…waiting.”

“Then why is your hair wet?” Louis’ eyes are sparkling with a teasing smirk, and Harry blushes to the colour of his lips.

“I…er…uh…”

“I’m just kidding. Don’t worry. Your hair is cute, wet or dry, so all is good.” Harry is so charmed by Louis’ face. He probably shouldn’t be this charmed. This is likely ill-advised. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“Well, uh, I guess it’s up to you, really. Do you have something you want to sing? Anything specific?”

“I don’t quite know the songs from the musical yet, but was thinking maybe “Hey There Delilah”. You familiar? Might be good for you to know the song in case I am complete rubbish.”

“Yeah of course. Sounds brilliant,” Harry nods.

“Hey, hey, don’t compliment me before I even start. For all you know I could be terrible.”

“Nah, you’ll be great.”

“Do I just, like, start singing?” Louis looks around the stage, a bit overwhelmed, but Harry just shrugs and smiles reassuringly.

“You’re the actor. You’re used to being on-stage. Put a show for me.”

Louis freezes, looks Harry up and down and giggles. “A show, huh? What kind of show are we talking here? You usually have to give me a few pints before I loosen up.”

Harry is a bit uncomfortable, pretty nervous, and he might be slightly turned-on. “I… uh… just a music show,” he says finally.

“A music show?”

“A music show,” Harry confirms. “Just perform it like you were on the stage at a singing competition. Actually I’ll go sit down there, and look all scary and official like a judge. You introduce yourself, and then just…sing. Deal?”

“Deal.” 

Harry takes a few calming breaths as he hops down from the stage, and sits down in the front row of chairs in the audience. “Would the next contestant please come on stage?” He says grandly, grinning to himself at the situation.

“You’re about as intimidating as a pile of kittens,” Louis complains, and Harry tries to straighten his mouth into a firm line.

“I’m perfectly intimidating!” he protests.

Louis smiles. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that. Anyway, rank me on a scale of 1 - 10 after I sing, okay? Be brutal.”

“How does the ranking system work?”

“10 means I moved you to tears…in the best kind of way. 1 means I moved you to tears…in the worst kind of way. I guess 5 is average skill level. Sound good?”

“Well, I don’t know if it sounds good quite yet,” Harry jokes. “But I’m ready when you are.”

Louis paces the stage back and forth several times, before clasping his hands, taking a big (but notably, fairly shallow) breath and beginning to sing one of the saddest renditions of ‘Hey There Delilah’ Harry has ever heard. It certainly wasn’t, ‘moving to tears in the worst way’ worthy, but it wasn’t exactly a masterpiece. Harry quite enjoyed the timbre of Louis’ voice, but his breath control was fairly weak, his pitch was sketchy, and he kept gesturing wildly as if he thought it would change his technique, when really all it did was cause a few shaky notes.

As Louis finishes the song, and brushes the hair back from his eyes with a frown. “You don’t need to tell me that was terrible,” he says gently. “I already know. I just get so _nervous_ singing in front of people. Fuck, I’m never going to be able to do this, am I?” He flops himself down, sitting at the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the side. “Sorry, I’ve probably just wasted your time and made your eardrums bleed too.”

“Firstly, eardrums don’t really bleed, unless you’ve stabbed them with a Q-Tip, and I certainly hope you’re not poking around in my ear a cotton-stick. That would be quite weird. Secondly…” Harry tries to regain his thoughts, as his mind has slipped elsewhere. “Er, secondly, you’re not wasting my time at all. And it wasn’t that terrible.”

“Be honest with me,” Louis says with a raise of his eyebrow. “Scale of 1 to 10?”

“6,” Harry says. Louis gives him a look. “5? Okay, fine, probably a 4. Or a 3.5. You also lost a few points for forgetting to introduce yourself and the song, but I’ll forgive you this time. I’ve definitely heard worse, and you were nervous. Let’s fix this.”

Harry hauls himself onto the stage, and motions to Louis to do the same. He walks to where Louis is, and gestures for him to watch. “Firstly, straighten your body around your core. It should be like your spine is in the middle. See how much your behind is sticking out? In proper posture it should be a little bit more….er…”

“Proportional? Yeah, yeah, I know. My arse is gigantic.” Louis tries to straighten his body, and Harry adjusts him slightly, until he’s in a good posture, telling him, “No, no, your arse is….great.” Classy.

“Your feet are already a good distance apart, and I like how your shoulders are nice and broad, but make sure to keep them that way. Often when people get nervous they shrink their posture, but you probably already know that from theatre. Now, put your hand on your stomach, and take a deep breath. If you’re doing a proper big breath, you should actually feel it there too. Got it?”

Louis gives it a try. “Not really. I can’t feel it,” he says with a frown. 

“Do you mind if I put my hand there and see if I can feel what you’re doing wrong?” Harry asks and Louis nods.

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to Harry, but when he stands, facing Louis, and lays a hand on his soft stomach, that it feels as though he has just been plugged into an electrical circuit. His blood is burning through his veins, his heart is racing, and he wouldn’t be surprised if a mirror showed that all of a sudden his hair was all staticky. He tries to keep his voice steady as he instructs Louis. “Now, breathe right into my hand, like you’re breathing into your belly. That will help with intonation, and also with overall tone quality. Try it.”

Louis takes in a deep breath, and Harry tries not to shake as he feels it in his hand. He’s supposed to be helping this guy, not being super ridiculously attracted to him, so this feels sort of wrong. “A bit deeper,” he instructs, and after several more tries Louis is doing it, and Harry’s hand is rising and falling with every breath. He can feel his own breath, and it is _shallow_ and he definitely knows better than to do this, but he’s so needlessly nervous right now that controlling himself doesn’t seem an option. Rushedly he says, “Now, you try,” and pulls his hand away, gesturing for Louis to replace it with his own.”

“Yeah.. Yeah I feel what you mean…” Louis says slowly, considering. “And this should help me sing better?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Harry smiles, as Louis continues to breathe in deeply. “You’ll have to practice it though, because if you don’t you’ll go back to the other way when you’re under stress.” 

“Alright. I can do this,” Louis says, as if he’s not quite sure, but tries again. “I can do this, _I can do this!_.”

“Yeah you can! And that was the last thing I wanted to say, actually. Be calm. Don’t stress. You won’t perform as well under stress. I’m sure you know that with acting, so apply the same calm energy here.”

“Do you still get nervous? Cause I definitely do, but once I’m in character I’m usually alright.”

“Yeah… yeah I do. I actually sometimes puke before going onstage which is….embarrassing… but once I’m up here, I know the song well enough that everything just…works.” 

“Alright!” Louis says, swinging his arms, and pacing slightly in place. “I can do this! I can do this!”

“And it’s just me listening for now. I don’t bite…unless I’m asked to.” Harry probably needs to go purchase a new brain to mouth filter, but Louis laughs. 

“Okay, great,” he says. “I’ll do this.”

“If worse comes to worse, just picture yourself in the character - you really love Delilah, you really love what she does to you, and you wrote her a song!”

“Hard to imagine, but I’ve played harder. I’ve got this.”

“Good. So, try again?”

Louis nods, and this time Harry takes a seat in a chair on the stage. “Just to reduce the tension a little.” Louis smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“Uh, hi! I’m Louis Tomlinson, and I’m a theatre student from Doncaster, going to school in Manchester. Today I will be singing ‘Hey There Delilah.’” Harry gives him an encouraging smile and nod, and he begins to sing.

It’s better. It’s a lot better. Harry finds himself relaxing in his chair, letting the song soak over him, with Louis’ textured voice hitting him gently, sweetly. It’s a unique voice, and he likes it, and he hopes Louis never stops singing. Of course, the performance still isn’t perfect, but these things take time, and Harry is impressed. As Louis finishes, singing, he rises to his feet and applauds.

Louis blushes, and gives a little bow. “Not sure that was standing ovation worthy, but I do quite appreciate the vote of confidence. What’s my rating this time? A 5?”

Harry considers for a moment. “6.5,” he tells him. “Big improvement. Above average. I’d listen to it. I like your voice. It’s quite nice. Relaxing.”

“Well, thanks,” Louis says, and it’s so obvious that he’s trying to keep his face straight, but his eyes are shining, and a grin is tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not good enough yet though, is it? Like, I still have a long ways to go?”

Harry frowns slightly. “I think your main issue would be consistency. If you can consistently sing that well you’re fine, but I really don’t know that you would be able to do that after one try. So we should probably work some more, if you want.”

“Would you have time for that? Would it be okay?” Louis looks uncertain.

“Yeah definitely. Happy to help out.” Help out a cutie who he needs to buy a gift for? Anytime. His level of attractiveness is just a bonus. Probably. 

Louis nods enthusiastically, and they continue to work on things, rehearsing, and discussing techniques. Harry suggests to Louis to keep his hand on his diaphragm until he gets the hang of the deeper breathing and constant air-stream, and Louis keeps Harry laughing so hard at silly little things that _he_ probably needs to practice deeper breaths. If Harry ever had any doubts before, he now knows that Louis is a wonderful person who makes him feel kind of like a kid again, and he’d love to spend more time with him. Good thing too, because he still doesn’t know what to get him as a gift, and dammit, Harry is going to buy the best present ever.

“Boys, can you finish up in here? I’m about to lock up,” a voice calls out, breaking Harry from his trance of listening to Louis tell a story from before that evening’s play about a time a chimp got loose in the theatre and escaped to the top of the vending machine. The boys look up to see Fred, the building’s maintenance person waving from one of the doors at the side of the auditorium.

“Oops, sorry Fred,” Louis exclaims, rising to his feet, and grabbing his coat. “We’ll be headed out. Thanks for all your hard work!”

“Anytime, Louis. Oh, and is that Harry there with you? I didn’t know you two were friends!”

“Ah, Fred, yes indeed. This is the beginning of a good, long friendship, isn’t it Harold?” Louis smiles, pulling an arm around Harry.

“Uh… yeah! Yeah! Definitely. Thanks Fred! Byyyye!” Harry exclaims with a wave, slightly overwhelmed by the whole ‘Louis is touching him’ thing.

“Just turn the lights out behind you, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

The boys wave a farewell to him, and continue their packing up. As they pack, Louis turns to Harry. “You doing anything tomorrow night?”

“No, not really. Want to practice again?” 

“No, actually. Tomorrow’s the closing night of the play, and we have a cast party afterwards and stuff so I’ll be busy, but I could probably get you into the play for free if you want to see it! Just as a thank-you for your help. Want to go?”

“Sure!” Harry says enthusiastically. “I’d love to!”

“Great! I’ll text you and let you know how to get it. Thanks so much for all the help tonight.”

“Anytime,” Harry says, and despite the amount of school work and rehearsing looming over him, he 100% means it.

 

 **Friday, November 29** ** th** **, 2014**

Harry is practicing an aria in a practice room, frustrated with his lack of progress, when his phone buzzes. “Hey Harry ! The show is at 7:30, doors open at 7 . You still want to go ? :)” 

“Yeah, sounds great! Thank you. Where can I get my ticket? How much do they cost?”

“I’ll put one aside for you at the desk. It’s on me! See you then ! :) “

“See you then xx.”

—

Harry drags Ed along with him to the show. “Harry, why do I have to come?”

“Because I don’t want to go alone. Also it will be awesome,” Harry tells him. As Harry picks up his ticket, and Ed begrudgingly pays the  £8 for his, they make their way down the stairs to the theatre. The theatre and music departments share a building, with the lower level being a fully transformable theatre, and classrooms for the associating students, and the upstairs being a seated music auditorium and music classrooms. Harry is always surprised by the transformations made to the downstairs theatre each time he attends a play, and eagerly anticipates the staging. This time it is set up as an office with a window, complete with chairs, desks, and official looking documents framed on the walls. According to the program, Louis is playing the role of “the Maniac” and the play is called “Accidental Death of an Anarchist”. Harry’s not familiar with it, but it looks interesting, and Louis has told him that it’s wild and funny, and that his character is quite interesting, so Harry’s looking forward to it.

The lights dim once, and by the times they raise again 115 minutes later Harry feels like a transformed, new person. The story has been marvellously told, and Louis played his part so well that oftentimes he even forgot who he was watching. It’s only when Louis comes out for his bow, that the delight of the situation truly hits him, and he applauds wildly, rising to his feet. The theatre is small, and he swears Louis gives him a wink, though by this point there’s pretty much a theatre-wide standing ovation going on, so he can’t be positive. 

After the bows are over, Harry makes his way back to the lobby with Ed (who thinks the show was ‘pretty good’), where he waits for Louis to come up. He’d been told that the actors usually met people there afterwards in a brief meet-and-greet type thing, and there was no way he was leaving without congratulating him on a job well done. As Ed pours over the informational boards with headshot and bios,  Harry waits patiently, watching for Louis’ entrance. When Louis finally appears, wearing a sweat-shirt and a beanie, he immediately lights up when he sees Harry.

“Good, you made it!” he exclaims, once he’s made his way over, giving Harry a quick hug. “Did you like it? Was I complete rubbish?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “You know full well you weren’t rubbish!” he exclaims. “Truly fantastic. You should go act for the big theatre shows. One of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time!”

Louis positively glows! “The show went really well too, in general. One of the best ones we’ve put on this season. I’m so glad you liked it! Means a lot.”

“You were so convincingly up there too - barely knew it was you!”

“Well I’m almost as clever as the maniac, but not quite as scary, I would think, soooo…” Louis grins at Harry, but turns as he hears his name called several times. “Shit, I’ve got to go - cast party awaits. Thanks so much for coming!” he exclaims, giving his friends a wave. “Can we meet up again soon? Maybe….Tuesday?”

“Yeah, sounds great!” Harry grins. “Thanks again for the ticket!"

“Anytime love, anytime.” And with those words, Louis waves goodbye, and heads out the lobby doors. Harry siddles up beside Ed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Ed sighs. “Okay. By the way, that boy of yours really is a good actor.”

“Not my boy.”

“Sure he’s not.”

He’s not, but Harry would be lying if he didn’t say he wished he was.

 ----

**Tuesday, December 2nd, 2014**

Harry is sitting at a table in the student union building, staring at his music history textbook and sipping a pineapple mango smoothie when he hears a familiar voice.

“Harry you deserve better than this smoothie.” Harry looks up to a blue-eyed beauty standing next to him, head tilted disapprovingly.

“What do you mean?” 

“You know how they say that life is for the living? Well food… food is for the _chewing_. The savouring. The enjoying the textures, the tastes, the distinction between different bites.” It is quite clear that Louis does not understand the wonder of smoothies, and Harry is not entirely convinced that Louis personally understands food, as most of what he’s seen him eat has been pizza, chicken strips, and tea, which hardly counts.

“But this smoothie is delicious.”

“You lose the experience - what makes eating enjoyable is entirely gone. It’s all the same taste _mush_. Nope, nope, nope. If you’re going to keep eating… excuse me, _drinking_ these smoothies, I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to be friends.”

“But Louis!”

Louis slides himself into the chair next to Harry“No buts. What if I showed you how to have good food? You come to my place, I make you dinner. Okay?” 

“I never said I didn’t _like_ real food. I worked in a bakery in high school. I _like_ to cook.”

“Yet you eat this disaster? Ridiculous.”

“Are you a cook?”

“I, er, well, I can make something better than this……mush.”

“Fine. It’s a…..plan.” A plan. No, it’s not a date. Just a plan, with a cute boy. Plus, Harry can’t complain about going over to Louis’ apartment, because he needs to find out what to give him for Secret Santa, still. 

Louis eyes Harry suspiciously, and then confirms with a flick of his hair. “A plan!” He pauses for a moment. “Do you mind if I stay here and study with you or whatever for a bit? Got 20 minutes to kill before my next class, and can’t think of any better company.”

Harry smiles. “Of course!” he says. “Just let me run off for a quick wee, and I’ll be back to be fantastic company!” What a dumb statement. Harry is so much dorkier than usual around Louis, and he didn’t even know that that was possible. Still, Louis gives him a smile and a small wave as Harry runs off, and Harry knows he’ll be waiting for him when he comes back.

When Harry returns from the loo, he sees Louis holding his phone to his ear and talking animatedly . “No, not some _pot_ , some _pots._ I’m not using American slain for some mary-j, you wanker. I just need some good, real, stuff to cook in. Cookware or whatever. No I don’t have my own, why on earth would a 22 year-old have…” he trails off as he sees Harry standing, watching. “I’ve gotta go,” he says quickly. “We’ll talk later.”

Harry stares at Louis for a moment, and Louis fixes his fringe, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “You don’t have any pots in your apartment?” Harry asks, amused.

“What are you going on about, Harold?”

“You don’t have pots?” Harry asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Of…course I have pots… and pans and…whatever….. Or…”

“Louis,” Harry says slowly. “You don’t have to cook for me. It’s okay.”

Louis scrunches his nose. “Yeah but these….things you keep drinking.”

“It’s just basically what I eat normally anyway. Lots of fruits and veggies. Whole grains, some lean meats. Nothing big.”

“There are lean meats in your smoothie?!” Louis exclaims, a look of horror flashing across his face.

Harry bursts into laughter. He tries to answer Louis, but the words just won’t come out as gales of laughter take their place. Louis’ face is a perfect mix of confusion and horror, with just a touch of fondness, Harry thinks, and Harry can’t catch his breath. “I….. _no_ ,” he finally flounders out with a huge exhale. “No, no, this is just mango, and pineapple, banana, greek yogurt, orange juice and spinach!” he tells him. “Try some!”

“SPINACH?” The look on Louis’ face here is almost better than the previous, and Harry has to stop tears from spilling out in laughter.

“You can barely taste it,” he finally says, indignantly, with a long sip from the straw. “It just tastes like fruit. Yum!” He points the drink towards Louis, and Louis leans far away.

“No, no, no,” he exclaims, until he’s leaned back so far that he’s almost fallen out of his chair. At this point he simply pushes back, and rises to his feet. “I promise I’m only running away from the smoothie a little bit, but I reckon I gotta run to class, okay?” he announces. “But we’re meeting tonight, right? I’ll see you and your cute little face then right? 7?”

“Yeah! Yeah, tonight,” Harry says. “You ready to sing?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Louis tells him. “Well, as ready as I can be, I reckon. Should be good!” He slings his rucksack over his back and flashes a grin at Harry. 

“See you!” 

Harry most certainly watches Louis as he walks out the door, and after a moment or two, wistfully returns to his studying. Not an ounce of work was done when Louis was there, and Harry couldn’t possibly care less. 

—

Harry should probably be studying, but his mind drifts to other things. For example,  he still has no idea what to get Louis for Secret Santa. He’s spent enough hours with him to know that he thinks he’s probably one of the best people he’s ever met, but not enough to know the subtleties. For example, he knows that Louis’ cologne smells amazing, but he’s not 100% sure what designer it is. He knows that Louis smokes sometimes and is trying to quit, but doesn’t know his preferred brand of cigarettes, or if he even has one. He knows that Louis has a lot of sisters and one little brother, and a bit of a broken and confusing home, and he knows that Louis plays footie, and that Louis’ favourite crisps are salt and vinegar, but how does that speak to the deep desires of his heart? How does that speak to the sort of thing he’d want to open at a Christmas party

Harry does not know how he can be expected to pick the perfect gift for Louis in this sort of time frame, and frankly it is a pressing matter. It’s so pressing that he thinks of it as he practices his arias that afternoon, as he sits through a boring theory class, and as he treks up the hill to the music building for their practice. He’s figured out exactly nothing, until he’s opening the door to the music building, and then he is struck with an idea: he can order him the Pippin soundtrack! Include something cute like a chocolate bar or a flower or a pair of home-made mittens… and then the soundtrack. Louis would like that. It will work. It’s not flawless, but it’s good, and Harry could even make some Christmas cookies too!

It is with the satisfaction of this realization that Harry perches himself on the edge of the stage, waiting for Louis to show up. As Louis strolls in, his rucksack slung over his back, he smiles brightly.

“So, Curly,” Louis says enthusiastically, “I’m all prepared for this rehearsal. I even downloaded the Pippin soundtrack onto this here phone last night, so we can use the real music!” 

Harry freezes. “From…iTunes?” He tries to feign enthusiasm but is mentally cursing the need to cross that option off the gift list.

“Nah. Piratebay. All you need, really.” 

Harry resists the urge to twitch slightly, as he knows only too well what it’s like to be a struggling musician, seeing as his EP sold exactly 63 copies. If a 64th person would buy the album instead of illegally downloading it he would be able to afford taking Louis out for a pint. Also the whole losing his gift idea thing is kind of annoying as well.

“I also noticed,” Louis says with a smile, “that you have an EP that’s on iTunes too. Couldn’t find it on Piratebay, so I…” He grins at Harry’s pout. “…so I decided I should probably buy that one.”

“Do you want to go out for a pint after this?” Harry exclaims in a rush of words. “You know…seeing as I have a little extra cash now.”

“Uh… yeah! Yeah, sure. That would be nice.” Louis looks unsure at first, but then his eyes gleam and he flashes Harry a grin. “I could really use that. How about they’re on me, since you’ve been so lovely to help me with this audition!”

“Well, _technically_ my pint is already on you, because you bought my EP… but okay, sure!” That’s not a date though, right? Not a date. Probably not a date. Just two bros getting pints. Yeah.

“Yeah, uh…. broseph,” Louis responds with a strange look on his face, and a slightly too hard punch to Harry’s arm, and Harry realizes that he said the bro thing out loud. Awkward. 

“Aha…. Uh…Frosty the Broman, uh that sounds…good.” Harry is terrible. Harry needs to go stuff a sock in his mouth so he stops embarrassing himself. Seriously. He tries to over-compensate with a laugh but it ends up sounding very fake and somewhat crazed. And very loud. “Ahaha….bro…” Harry tries to punch Louis too, but ends up bumping his pinky finger really hard on Louis’ shoulder, and curses and cringes.

“Let’s never do that again, okay H? And never speak of this again, you reckon?” Louis quips, drawing an arm around Harry in a much less bro-y manner. Harry sort of accidentally snuggles into him and murmurs,“Yeah… yeah. That would be good. Thanks.”

The rest of the rehearsal goes off without a hitch. After listening to the CD, and running through some lyrics and lines, Harry and Louis are able to narrow down which songs Louis will sing for his audition. “Extraordinary” is an upbeat fun song that highlights Louis’ spirit and energy, as well as the strength of his high and fast vocals, and “With You” is a contrasting, slow piece, where Louis can showcase his gentle notes, and his unique vocal tone. Harry helps him with posture, mouth shape, and deep breathing, reminding him to touch his hand to his diaphragm to help feel and judge depth of his breaths. He also coaches him to do with confidence and tries to butter him up a little. The whole evening is quite relaxed, and they spend about half the time just chatting, and the other half working on audition prep. It’s nice. It’s peaceful. Harry could do it all the time.  As they finish up, and pack up to head down to the pub for a pint, having decided to meet again the following Monday, Harry is feeling as fresh and alive as he would after a day relaxing in the sun with a nice book. Spending time with Louis feels like spending a day in the sunshine. It’s been so long since Harry has met someone with whom he has clicked so easily, and it feels strange to think this so early on, but he never wants to let this friendship go. 

\--

**Thursday, December 4th, 2014**

 

After class, Harry receives a very confusing packing in the mail, and when Ed gets home for dinner, he is very eager to talk about it.

“And then,” Harry says enthusiastically, “When I opened the package, it was the _strangest_ thing. Like, I knew it was a weird shape all along and it kind of smelled funny? But when I opened it there was just this….lettuce.”

“Like a leaf?” Ed looks confused, and Harry shakes his head.

“No, like a whole head. It wasn’t as rotten as I expected, so it must have just been put in the mail yesterday or summat. So I just took off the bad bits and put it in the fridge. So, now we have a lettuce, if you want to do anything with that. Salad maybe?”

“Harry, we are not eating lettuce that you got in the post,” Ed says fairly, and Harry pouts.

“But lettuce is nutritious, and delicious! Although actually, huh, I think it was iceberg which is mainly water anyway. If it had been romaine….”

“Harry, when you get objects in the mail, they’re not for eating.”

“What if I order home delivery?”

“I’m pretty sure we are not nearly wealthy enough for that.”

“What if it’s in a care package from my mum or Gemma?”

“Harry.”

“What if it has a _skin_.”

“Harry do we really have to talk about this?”

Pouting, Harry makes a post on facebook about the lettuce. “Found. One lettuce. Please contact me if you’re missing a lettuce. I don’t know its name because it seems quite shy.”

Unfortunately Ed does take the lettuce and throw it directly into the garbage, to Harry’s loud protests. Ed does allow him to move it to the compost, where at least it can proper decompose, but Harry will not pretend that he did not mourn the loss of what could have been a perfectly good free lunch.

 

This is not the last time that Harry gets an odd object in the mail. The following day an orange arrives inside of a small box. It’s a little dry and flavourless, but it looks nice enough on the outside so Harry can’t really blame it on the sender. Harry assumes that given the fact that the orange has a skin it’s probably been immune to anything that would worry Ed, even though he doesn’t understand the big deal himself. The following Monday, there’s a banana, crudely wrapped in brown paper with his name scrawled onto it and a single stamp. The ink from the black sharpie had bled into the skin, but Harry contentedly slips the banana marked with “Ha   y St  e ” into his bag to take to rehearsal with Louis, in case he gets hungry. What Ed doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.

 

** Monday, December 8 th , 2014 **

 

Seeing Louis again feels so much more relaxing than Harry thought it would be. It had been a busy week, and while the two had texted fairly regularly, they’d been unable to meet-up due to the busy-ness of final assignments and exam prep. Suddenly, when Louis greets Harry with a big smile, everything feels alright in the world again.

Harry and Louis are about 15 minutes into the rehearsal when Harry feels a bit hungry, and he grabs the banana from his bag. Louis is pouring over some music, and trying to do mini vocal exercises as Harry flips the banana and begins to peel it. He is mainly concentration on the banana when Louis’ voice breaks through.

 

 “Is that a banana?”

“What else would it be?” Harry asks, scrunching his brow. 

“Well given its shape and the way you’re devouring it, I…. actually, no I’m not going to answer that. I should behave.”

Harry gives Louis a look before taking another bite. “Bananas are quite nutritious, I’ll have you know. Full of potassium and good sugars. They’re my favourite.”

“Do you just…buy bananas all the time?”

 “And an assortment of other fruits and vegetables, yes. This one though, I actually got it in the post.” It doesn’t even taste like a ‘post’ banana - it tastes totally normal. Harry is satisfied.

 Louis looks like he might die. “In the post?” he says slowly, like he can’t believe it. “You’re eating something you got in the post?”

 “Yeah, why not? There was an orange and a lettuce too.”

  “And you ate those as well?” Louis asks incredulously, and Harry shrugs.

 “Not the lettuce. Ed threw that one away before I got the chance. I prefer romaine anyhow. Iceberg isn’t usually my thing.”

Louis begins to howl with laughter and Harry is slightly worried about his health. When he finally gets a breath in he coughs out a stuttering, “Romaine? Let me guess, you’re going to say you wish the orange was mandarin.”

“Actually I usually prefer navel, but this one was a bit dry, so I’m not quite sure.”

 “Oh my god, Harry,” Louis exclaims, and he’s shaking his head and Harry thinks he detects a hint of fondness in his voice. “You’re absolutely ridiculous. Next you’re going to tell me that you got an avocado in the post tomorrow and used that for some guacamole.”

 Harry frowns. “An avocado might get a bit mushy, but that actually sounds good. Avocados are expensive, you know. Who’s going to turn down free food?”

  “You’re so ridiculous. Why do I like you?” Harry’s heart stops for a second, because Louis _likes_ him, but he’s still not sure whether Louis like-likes him, and he’s been enjoying his company too much to risk finding that out. Everyone always says that things don’t get awkward in university when you have a unreciprocated crush but in Harry’s experience that hasn’t been true. It’s not like middle-school or upper-school, which Harry imagines would have been significantly less awkward if his crushes hadn’t been on heterosexual men, but there’s still a certain level of closeness that changes after a rejected date, or a poor date, or even a drunken sloppy kiss. Harry will have to be careful.

Louis has gotten pretty decent at singing his songs, and Harry continues to give him pointers, while trying to pretend he’s not swooning over his voice and general stage presence. Louis really has a way of captivating the people around him, whether he’s singing, dancing, acting, or just having a conversation. He doesn’t seem to realize just how astounding he really is though, because after one particularly rough take of “Extraordinary”, during which he tripped over his own foot and fell to the ground with a little shriek in a manner Harry thought only he was capable of, he continues to lie there, looking sad. 

“God, sometimes I wonder why I even try,” Louis murmurs. “I really want this part, but who knows if I’ll ever be good enough.”

“You’re quite good,” Harry tells him, lowering himself to the ground next to him. “I’ve seen you act in the plays too, remember? I’m barely even biased!”

Louis pulls himself into a seated position with a gentle chuckle, but doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “Thanks, but I don’t know why I’m so insecure about this! I think it’s just that it’s my _last_ semester here, and I really want to do well in this last play, and there’s this other guy in the company, and he always gets all the credit, and the parts I want. And everyone is always telling me, ‘you’re never going to make it as an actor’ and I just don’t want to be a fuck-up.”

“Well, you’re not a fuck-up,” Harry tells him. “And I think you’re doing great.”

“Thanks,” Louis responds. “You’re great. I’m still not feeling very ‘Extraordinary’ though.”

Harry considers the young man before him. He thinks he’s pretty extraordinary, himself, but he gets it. He’s been told that he’s great too, but sometimes it’s hard to remember, and hard to believe. And, he too, struggles to believe he’ll be able to make it in the areas of career that he loves most, and he knows just how claustrophobic that can feel. “I’m sorry you don’t feel that way,” he tells him sincerely. “But I really think you are. And if you don’t get this part, or even if you don’t make it as an actor, you’re _still_ extraordinary, okay? Don’t let those things define you.”

Louis flicks his hair back. “I never talk about feelings,” he murmurs. “With you, for some reason, it’s a bit different.” He pauses, as if to consider the statement, his face gentle. “Thanks.” He pulls himself to his feet, and walks to the iPhone dock, resetting the song. “So, how do I do this song even more ‘extraordinarily’?” he asks. 

“Pretend you believe it,” Harry says. “Just fake it, and maybe someday you’ll believe it. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

Louis gives a curt nod, and tries the song again. He starts out gently, singing, “ _Patching the roof and pitching the hay, is not my idea of a perfect day - when you're extraordinary, you gotta do extraordinary things._ ”

“More enthusiasm!” Harry exclaims, and Louis does his best. Louis keeps trying, and Harry keeps yelling out encouragement, until Louis reaches the final verse.

_“Oh give me my chance, and give me my wings , and don't make me think about everyday things. They're unnecessary, to someone who is very…extraordinary….like me!”_ He gestures enthusiastically, sings fully, and ends the song with the kind of energy Harry would expect to see in a good quality stage production, not just an audition. As the music ends, Louis looks over at Harry, who has broken into a huge grin. 

“Just look at you,” Harry exclaims. “Truly, truly, extraordinary. Keep it up, and you’re gonna wow everyone, not just me.”

“You have to say that,” Louis says, but he’s grinning too. “You’ve taught me all I know.”

“Nah, if you were rubbish, I’d let you know. I’m a mean, mean person like that.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” Louis laughs. “Thanks as always. I’ll be good enough someday.”

He’s good enough now, but Harry knows better than to push the issue too much at this point. “Wanna go down to open mic with me?” he asks. “You usually go, don’t you? I’m playing at 10.”

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” Louis nods. “We done rehearsal now?”

“We can be, if you feel good about what we’ve done!”

 

And, so they head down to open mic after that, because why wouldn’t they? It’s a staple of their Monday evenings, and it’s always worth a smile.

Harry makes the mistake of ordering himself a pint, only to discover that tonight there are free pints for performers…. _and_ Louis insisted on buying him one as yet another thank-you. After completing his set, which gets a lot of applause and enthusiasm, Harry finds himself three pints in and a little hazy. Somehow he finds himself, arm around Louis, drunkenly saying, “You know how people are always asking, ‘ _if you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?’”_  

Louis laughs slightly. “I personally have never been asked that question before, but go on…”

“I mean, the answer is so obvious! I don’t even know why people would ask me! It’s _obviously,_ so obviously…”

“A banana?”

“Oh Louis. Louis, Louis Louis. Perhaps _you’d think so_ but it’s _actually_ a passionfruit. Don’t you understand? It’s a _fruit_ that’s just full of….passion. _Actually,_ I don’t even know what the hell a passionfruit is except that it represents me perfectly. I’m just so…passionate. And fruity. And _mysterious_. Louis, don’t you think I’m mysterious? And _everyone_ likes mysterious.”

Louis lets out a laughter, that sounds to Harry like pure joy and happiness, and he starts to laugh too, until he hears a groggy voice next to him. 

“Harry? Harry. I think it’s probably time to get you back home, okay?” Ed gently pulls at Harry’s arm. “Let’s go home.”

“Do I _have_ to?” Harry groans, looking back at Louis.

“Yeah I think it would be best,” Ed says, tugging him along. 

“Okay _fiiiine_ ,” Harry exclaims, waving enthusiastically as he yells, “Byeeeee Louis!” and Ed drags him out the door.

 

**Tuesday December 9th**

 

Harry wakes up with a pounding headache, and way too many memories of the night before. He texts Ed. “Did I fuck up?”

“You told Louis that you were a passionfruit.”

Harry groans and rolls over and tries to go back to sleep. He’s glad he doesn’t have class til 10:30.

He doesn’t contact Louis for the rest of the day, out of embarrassment, and he feels like he’s lost a bit of the pep in his step. It’s not until 8pm, while he is studying his psychology textbook,  that he gets a text message that reads, “Hey ! Can we meet Thursday night to go over my songs one last time? My audition is Friday and I’m a little nervous :\ “

“Yeah, of course xx,” Harry responds, heart beating rapidly. “What time? 7?” 

“Yep. 7. “

Louis’ response is uncharacteristically short, and Harry can’t help but wonder if he is mad at him, or a little sketched out from the night before, as Ed has informed him that it was pretty wild. However, he is not left wondering for long, as his phone buzzes again about thirty seconds later. 

“By the way,” the text reads, “a passionfruit is a purple fruit with yellow seeds and flesh, that is native to Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina. While it is supposedly delicious, I stand by my previous statement that you are more of a banana ;) See you Thursday, love xx”

Harry is in way too deep. “Have you ever been in love?” he casually asks Ed, who is sitting across the room, noodling around on his guitar.

Ed looks up groggily, “If this is about Louis, it really takes more than two weeks to know,” he says, turning back to his guitar.

“Fine,” Harry replies, scrunching his nose, and turning back to his textbook.

“See you Thursday. xx"

 

—

**Wednesday December 10 th, 2014.  
**

The next day, Harry receives an avocado in the post. He makes guacamole. He sends a picture of it to Louis, who responds with a disgusted face.  


Harry proceeds to take a selfie of himself eating the guacamole, and when Louis doesn’t respond immediately he starts thinking.

“Heeeeyyy,” he types. “How did you know the next thing I got would be an avocado?”

“I’m good at guessing !” Louis responds after typing for what seems like far too long.

Harry is suspicious. “Did you send me an avocado?” he asks, typing quickly as the thought comes to his head.

“Why would you even ask me that?” is the quick response.

“Did you send me a lettuce?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Did you send me a grapefruit?”

“No !”

“Aha! The one thing I didn’t get in the mail is the one you deny. I see how it is.”

“I’ll admit to nothing !!! ;) ” the response says, and Harry shakes his head in disbelief. “Oh my god,” he mutters. “ _Oh_ my god.”

“What’s up?” Ed asks, from behind the counter as he scoops guacamole into a bowl. “You okay?”

“It’s just…Louis… he… oh my _god_.”

Ed looks up. “What did he do? By the way, do we have any tortilla chips.”

“Yeah, in the cupboard to the left of the sink,” Harry tells him. “Also, he’s been sending me all these fruits and vegetables in the mail? What the hell?”

“Sounds like a weird-ass form of foreplay,” Ed shrugs, as he reaches for the chips. “Wait, _all_ these fruits and vegetables? Not just the lettuce?”

Harry cringes. “Uhhhh,” he draws out, and Ed pokes his head up, and looks at Harry suspiciously. 

“Harry…”

“Just the lettuce. And an orange. And a banana. And an avocado.”

“Oh my _god_ , Harry!” Ed exclaims, looking down at his bowl. “And is this guacamole…”

“Yep,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’ with a raise of the eyebrows. “What even is this guy? Besides wonderful, and sweet and lovely and…”

“Completely and utterly infatuated with you?” Ed asks, still looking down skeptically at the guacamole.

“He’s just a weird prankster,” Harry proclaims, but he can barely fight the smile that is threatening to stretch across his face. “What a weirdo.” He giggles slightly, and glances down at his phone.

“Is he texting you?” Ed accuses, as he carefully tries some of the guacamole, having apparently decided it to be safe enough to eat.

“Maybe.”

“What is he saying?”

Harry looks down at his phone. Louis is sending him fruit emojis, with extra emphasis on the bananas, along with some :O faces. (What? They’re just eating ! )  “Nothing you need to know.”

“You two just need to go on a date and confirm things already, because this is getting ridiculous!” Ed exclaims as he takes a seat in the rocking chair by the window. “It’s obvious he likes you, and you very obviously like him because he’s literally all you talk about, so you should just seal the deal.”

“We’ve only known each other for two weeks!” Harry protests. “We’ll get to it. If he’s actually interested.”

“He sent you plants. In the mail.”

“He was trying to confuse me! It was a prank!”

“Why the hell would you prank someone you didn’t have a crush on like that? It makes no sense? This is some weird-ass flirting and I won’t even begin to try to understand.”

Harry doesn’t reply, as he’s looking down at his phone.

“What did he say…” Ed asks. Harry giggles, and starts to type. “What did he say….”

“He’s just being adorable,” Harry laments. “As always.”

Ed sighs heavily. “Ask him on a date. Go on a proper date. You guys are the worst love-bugs I’ve ever seen, and you’re not even dating _and_ I haven’t even seen you two together.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me as more than a friend?”

“Harry.”

“Ed.”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Stop playing chicken with this, and just ask him out. Then you two will become boyfriends, live happily ever after, and adopt lots of babies.”

Harry’s eyes light-up. “Babies?”

“Yes, babies. Lots and lots of babies.”

Harry’s grin gets wider, then falls. “Wait, what if Louis doesn’t want babies?”

Ed rises to his feet, smacks Harry gently on the head, and heads towards his bedroom. “Stop making excuses you goof, and ask him out,” he says fondly.

Maybe Harry will. Maybe, just maybe, Harry will.

 

**Thursday, December 11 th, 2014**

 

It’s 6:30 and Harry is very early for his final rehearsal with Louis. He feels anxious, wired, and slightly nauseated, and for some reason can’t get the idea out of his head that if he doesn’t do something _soon_ , this might be the last time he and Louis ever hang out. Sure, they’ll both be at Niall’s Christmas party, but parties aren’t always the best environment for talking, and then it will be break, and Louis would probably end up finding a great guy over the weeks away, and Harry would miss out forever. So, Harry paces the stage, taking Ed’s advice, and attempting to find a way to ask Louis out.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” he asks enthusiastically, trying his best to look non-terrified. He’s pretty sure if he looked in a mirror he would look like an angry emu. He tends to do that when he gets too panicked.

Would Louis want to date an angry emu? Probably not.

“Can we…grab dinner sometime? It might be nice!” Does he look too panicky? “I mean…Just food… a snack…a pint! Or a fruity drink! If you like those things…” He _knows_ Louis likes those things, and they already do them as friends. Harry is stupidly pathetic.

Ugh. His shirt is so itchy. Why did he decide to wear a dress-shirt instead of his usual comfy hoodie or t-shirt? Harry unbuttons one button, then another and another, until only the bottom three buttons are buttoned. It’s more comfortable like that, and Harry doesn’t care if he looks like an idiot - for fuck’s sake, he’s currently pacing on a stage, talking to no one, rehearsing asking someone out for a date.

Even inside this moment, he can’t help but smile at the idea that Louis will be here soon, and that warms him up inside.

 

Louis arrives early as well, just as Harry flops himself onto the stage floor. “Well you look comfortable,” he remarks, slipping off his coat to expose his light-blue cable-knit sweater, but keeping his beanie on. 

“You look comfier,” Harry replies, hoisting himself into a sitting position. 

“Not a contest,” Louis teases, hopping up to join Harry on the stage. He lays his phone and iPod dock on the piano bench, and gives Harry a heart-melting smile.

“You ready?”

Louis takes a deep breath, and then hops slightly, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yeah,” he says finally. “I think I’m ready. Just… yeah play the track. And stay up here and soak it in. I want you to be real with me, okay?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Harry beams at Louis. “But if I’m being real, I’m sure that you’re going to be just fabulous, okay?”

“Listen first, and tell me after.”

“Deal.” 

It’s weird. Louis has never explicitly said anything about how he feels about Harry, but Harry gets this warm feeling in his tummy every time their eyes meet, like it’s something special. They keep hanging out, and maybe they should talk about whatever this is, but for now he’s content just to listen to Louis, and thoroughly enjoy him.

“Harry?” 

Harry looks up. “Oops, sorry,” he says, startled. “Got a bit distracted there.”

“I mean I know you like the view, but…”

Harry is giggling and that’s pretty embarrassing, but Harry has literally zero subtly around Louis and he’s started to accept it. 

“Which song are you starting with?” 

“Um, how about ‘With You’? Start out slow, go for the big finish, yknow?”

 “Alright,” he says. “Let’s have it.” He smiles encouraging as he sits down on the piano bench, next to the iPod dock, and Louis returns the grin nervously. 

“I…I can do this,” Louis says quietly, pacing slightly on the stage.

“Of course you can, hun,” Harry smiles, then freezes. Hun? Really Harry, really? Shit, did Louis notice? If Harry keeps his eyes from getting any wider and slowly gets them back to normal they can just continue on like none of this ever…

“Thanks babe,” Louis says, and, what the hell, Harry’s heart might just stop here and now and he probably wouldn’t mind. Louis’ eyes are crinkly and adorable and sparkly and this…this is just great. Their eyes meet and Harry is probably gonna burst.

“Let’s do this!” Louis says, breaking the eye contact with a nervous giggle and thrusting his hands in the air in some sort of fist-pump-like movement. Harry pushes play on the iPod.

Louis falters a little as he starts singing, but quickly catches his stride, growing stronger and stronger. _“_ _My days are brighter than morning air, evergreen pine and autumn blue. But all my days are twice as fair, if I could share my days with you”_ he sings, facing the audience, glancing just slightly off to the side at Harry with a little smile.

“Hey, sing to me,” Harry says finally. “I’m auditioning you. Impress me.” Like he hasn’t already impressed him. 

Louis smiles. _“And oh….my dearest love, if you will take my love then all my dreams are truly begun,”_ he sings to Harry, pressing his hand gently to his diaphragm, and Harry is so endeared, and he just wants to rise to his feet and applaud.  Suddenly it’s like he’s doing his own special little performance, and Harry is the only audience he cares about. There could be hundreds of people out in the chairs watching, and he wouldn’t even notice, because Harry’s right there, and his eyes are fixed. If he’s being fully honest, he _thinks_ Louis is singing well, but he’s hardly an unbiased party at the moment. He would be a terrible judge, but he’s completely enthralled with the performance and the boy behind it, so that’s got to say something.

_“And time weaves ribbons of memory, to sweeten life when youth is through, but I would need no memories there if I could share my life with you,”_ Louis finishes gently, and the music begins to sway gently and peacefully, and Harry is pretty sure there’s something significant about this shift, and in this moment he can’t recall what it is, because Louis is everything occupying his thoughts, and his mind is swimming until he feels a gentle hand tap him.

“Dance with me?” Louis says softly, carefully, as if he’s not quite sure if it will work, or what Harry will say. Wordlessly Harry takes Louis’ hand and rises to his feet, and together they sway to the gentle lull of the music. 

It’s beautiful, and unexpected, and Harry’s heart is racing. Louis is warm, and soft, and smiley, and nervous, and everything is just so much and so perfect and everything Harry wanted. Louis’ hands are gentle on his waist, and he places his arms around his neck, gingerly, gently, lovingly. They’re dancing pretty closely too, and Harry can feel Louis’ warm breath. He leans forward slightly to Louis’ ear, and murmurs, “You were wonderful, by the way.” The two look into each others’ eyes, and Louis smiles gently. “You _are_ wonderful, by the way,” he responds.

The two sway gently for a moment, and they’re so close, _so_ close to each other, and Harry can feel Louis’ heart beat, as well as his own, which is racing, and Louis’ lips are turned up ever so slightly at the corners, and just slightly parted, and his eyes are glowing, and this is _it,_ isn’t it? Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and his nose brushes against Louis’ and they giggle gently. He’s just beginning to close his eyes when all of a sudden…

“Ah, fuck,” Louis murmurs and springs away. The music has suddenly changed to this weird, fun, but very very unromantic bouncy music. “I’d completely forgotten about that part of the song, fucking _hell_.” He awkwardly stands by the iPhone, which he has fumbled to turn off. “Sorry, love. That killed the mood, didn’t it.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Harry is probably as red as a tomato that Louis didn’t send in the mail and he wrings his hands together  while trying to keep his face as straight as he can. “Well, uh, that’s acting isn’t it?” he says brightly, trying to slow his still racing. “Constant mood shifts; gotta be prepared for anything!” 

Louis looks slightly confused, and quirks an eyebrow, he takes a step back towards Harry and says, “Well, where were we?”

“About to sing ‘Extraordinary?’” Harry asks, mind spinning and churning. Did they almost kiss? Did he imagine that? Was Louis actually into it, or did he just get too into the part? He _is_ an actor, after all. And Harry can hardly ask now, because he’s supposed to be an unbiased vocal coach or something. He can’t possibly, in good conscience, kiss his protege, or whatever Louis is supposed to be, or address that moment, at least until he’s heard the final song. If he caught Louis off-guard, and he ruined his final performance, without that reassurance from Harry he could entirely bomb the audition, and it would be all Harry’s fault. Harry can’t live with that on his conscious.

Harry has been standing in silence for 47 seconds, trying to figure things out, and when he looks up at Louis, he is standing by the iPod dock, an amused look on his face. “You okay, Haz?”

Harry startles. “Yeah! Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I am. Just internally writing down feedback from your performance so I can give it to you!”

“I hope I passed!” Louis jokes, and Harry smiles, a bit more relaxed.

“Oh, more than that. But we need to hear the next song so we know just how truly _extraordinary_ you truly are!” Harry continues to be an embarrassment, but he’s used to it by now.

Louis’ performance of “Extraordinary” is nothing short of worthy of its title, and Harry makes sure to inform Louis of this quite repetitively when it’s through. 

“Seriously,” he tells him. “If they don’t choose you for the part, it won’t even just be them missing out, it will just flat-out be the _wrong_ choice, I think. You should be performing on West End or Leicester Square. I would go see all your shows and tell everyone about how I knew you before you were famous…if you’d remember the little guys like me.”

“Little guys like you?” Louis asks, but it’s clear he’s blushing. “You’re not a little guy! You could make it big too. I want a full album from you, not just an EP. I want to go see you perform in stadiums.”

“A singer-songwriter in stadiums? _Me_ in stadiums? There’s no way.”

“You never know. You’ve got something special, Styles. Something really special.”

“And so do you,” Harry smiles. “So do you.”

The two chat for a few minutes, before slipping their coats and hats on, and stepping into the cool winter air. There are a few snowflakes swirling around them, and Harry giggles as one tickles his nose. He feels like a child again. Louis kind of makes him feel like a child, in the best of ways - giggly, playful, carefree. 

Louis reaches over and brushes the ball of his Santa hat back from his face, gently, almost serenely. Louis is wearing a red beanie and they sort of, almost match. Harry wishes they could continue the matching by holding hands and making it oh-so obvious that they’re together.

“I like your hat, by the way,” Louis tells him with a smile.

“Thank-you,” Harry says slowly. “You know, I guess it’s time for you to know that I was actually Santa all this time!…..secretly.” Oh my god. Why is he so embarrassing? And so obvious? Oh god. Harry is actually the worst and Louis definitely shouldn’t like him.

He glances up to see Louis’ face, and Louis looks quite startled, his eyes having grown wide. 

“What?”

“I… I never believed in Santa!” Louis says quickly. “I thought he was fake! You made me believe! My mind is quite blown. You’ve got to give a guy a chance to let this news sink in.”

Harry laughs again, a big ridiculous guffaw, and he should probably stop doing this cause he’s so embarrassing, but he just can’t help himself around Louis. He feels so silly. He does a little spin with his tongue out, trying to catch the falling flakes on the tip of it. He almost slips on the icy ground, and Louis grabs his arm, steadying him. It would be so easy to slip their hands together and intertwine their fingers but… he has some restraint.

“So, you’re going home for Christmas, right?” Harry asks Louis slowly, his hands now in the pocket of his coat. It’s cold outside and he probably should have brought mittens, yet he can’t bring himself to leave Louis and return home. He’d face a thousand frozen winters before missing another moment with Louis. It’s weird. He’s only hung out with him three times, yet when they’re apart he feels this tangible aching, as if a piece of himself is missing. He shouldn’t feel this way, yet he yearns for Louis when they’re apart.

He wasn’t meant to fall for him. He wasn’t meant to want to pull the young man in front of him close, and feel his warm breath against his in the moonlight, with sparkling campus lights all around. All he wanted was to go to Niall’s stupid Christmas party, and here he found himself. 

“Yeah. Going home. I guess,” Louis tells him with a small shrug. He’s pulling his coat close around him as well, and he too doesn’t seem to want to leave. “If you can call anything home, know? Do you ever feel like you don’t quite belong?”

“Well, I do love my mum and sister,” Harry says slowly, but he can tell that Louis is still itching to talk, and he lets him.

“I mean, yeah, same, me too. My sisters, my mum, they’re great. But ever since I’ve been here at uni, things have felt different. And I mean, it doesn’t help that my mother just married a man 9 years older than me. I don’t mind! I really don’t mind. I’m just not a kid anymore, and going home to the ‘magic of Christmas’ or whatever just doesn’t feel like a thing.” He pauses, and pulls his coat tighter around him, shivering slightly. “My birthday is practically on Christmas, and when I think of the things I really truly love, and where I’d want to be on my birthday, my mom’s isn’t really it anymore. I feel freest when I’m onstage, when I’m performing, and when I’m hanging out with just a few of my mates. When I can just, be me. Back home I’m always playing a role too, but It’s the big brother role, the oldest son role, and it’s great, really it is, but sometimes it’s not what I want. Sometimes I just want to…” he trails off.

Louis doesn’t trail off very often. He’s a picture of confidence, of beauty, of power. But not now. Now he is insecure, and perhaps a little broken, and Harry just wants to wipe even the tiniest semblance of a frown off his face. “Hide?” Harry asks, and Louis frowns. 

“Not quite hide,” he says. “Just, be someone who not everyone expects me to be. There are so many expectations, and sometimes I feel like I never get to show who I am really am.”

“Sometimes I feel the same,” Harry says. “And I know you like my songs, but sometimes I feel like when I write them I’m holding back, because if I put too much of myself into them and then people don’t like them, then I just won’t be able to handle it. It’s like if I just give a piece of myself, and they say they don’t like it, I can get over that, because it’s not _me_. There’s more to me. But if I gave it all…”

“Then what if it wasn’t okay?” Louis finishes. “Wasn’t good enough.”

“Is that why you came to me? For help,” Harry clarifies. “Because you were worried that you wouldn’t…”

“Yeah that’s it. I worry a lot.”

Harry wants to hug Louis, but he holds himself back, and instead says simply, “Well, you shouldn’t. You’re fantastic, and I don’t care if I have to tell you every day, I’ll keep saying it until you believe it. I barely know you, Louis Tomlinson, but you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

Louis’ eyes crinkle as he smiles. “And you, Harry Styles, are one of the best people that I’ve ever met. I’m so, _so_ , glad that I picked—“ Louis trails off and fear flashes across his face, for just an instant. 

“….You picked?” Harry questions, narrowing his eyes.

“I picked such a good friend in Niall, since he’s the one who told me to ask for help. What a good friend,” Louis responds quickly. He quickly stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Well, uh, I’ve got to go. Gotta get some good rest before my audition tomorrow!” he exclaims. “Thanks for everything Harry, really. I mean it.” He looks as if he has something more to say, and then suddenly wraps his arms around Harry in a big hug. Harry pulls him in tighter, his mouth and nose leaning in on his beanie. It feels like home. They stay there like that for a moment in the cool air, before breaking apart, giving each other gentle smiles, and wishing each other all the best, and it’s only as Louis has walked just out of shouting distance that Harry remembers that he never actually asked him out.

Probably for the best anyway. Might be too much of a distraction from his audition. Wouldn’t want him to do poorly. He'll see Louis on Saturday, after all, and can do whatever he has to do then.

 

 

**Friday, December 12 th, 2014**

 

It’s been a beautiful 2 and a half weeks, and Harry is sleepily lying in bed Friday morning, thinking of Louis, when he gets a text from Niall. “Don’t 4get the party tomorrow ! Starts at 7, wear something nice, bring your Secret Santa presents and £5 for mulled wine and shit!” 

SHIT.

After all that thinking, all that time with Louis, and all the great schemes that Harry half-dreamed up, the part is less than 36 hours away and Harry has absolutely nothing to show for it. Sure, he’s developed a good friendship with (and a massive crush on) the man he was supposed to buy a gift from, but that’s not exactly something you can wrap and put under a Christmas tree. He can’t just write a letter and say, “Hi, I really like you, and here are 14 reasons why….MERRY CHRISTMAS” either because a) that would be weird, and b), it would be a dismally bad gift, and Harry can do better than that.

Harry is glad that classes are over for the semester, because if he leaps out of bed immediately, pulls his hair into a bun, puts on some semblance of clothes, and hops on the bus, he can get to the mall and spend a day searching _everywhere_ for the perfect gift for Louis Tomlinson. He can do this and still pull off the best gift _ever_. It can’t be too hard, can it?

—

It _is_ too hard. Somehow it’s become 4pm, and the only thing that Harry has managed to purchase is a bunch of bananas (for himself, as he’d run out that morning) and some loose leaf tea and tea bags which, while delicious, is hardly an epic, quality gift. Defeated, Harry heads back home on the bus, having determined that the mall did not hold the answer to his gift-giving needs. While riding the bus he weighs his options - if he knits super fast, he can probably pull off a hat or a scarf in a perfect blue for Louis’ eyes. He could also make a batch of cookies which would be tasty but not all that personal.

It’s when he gets back to the apartment, and pulls out his laptop to check his e-mail, that the idea hits him - a mixtape! As someone who loves music, Harry always appreciated when others showed him music they loved as well, and he feels that Louis would share this sentiment. Therefore, Harry set about making the perfect tape of music - he includs some old classics like The Script, Robbie Williams, Boyz II Men, and selections from musicals he likes, along with some covers he had recorded but never posted anywhere. He starts with 25 songs that hold a dear place in his heart, and eventually narrows it down to 18, organizing them in an order that has, in his opinion, the perfect rise and fall. When he finishes burning the disk, he writes on it in sharpie, “AN ABSO-LOU-TELY WONDERFUL MIX :) ”.

It may not be _the_ perfect gift, but when he puts the tea and the CD in a festive bag decorated with a clumsy reindeer, he feels like it’s definitely good enough and should make Louis smile. As an after-thought, he adds a banana for good measure, and covers the whole thing in snowflake tissue paper. He’s got this. 

Just as Harry finishes putting the gift together, his phone buzzes with a text from Louis himself. 

“My audition went well xx. Hope I got the part! Won’t know for a while. Thanks for everything, love. Merry Christmas.”

Harry smiles. “Great to hear. Will I see you at Niall’s Christmas party tomorrow?” He already knows the answer, but when the “Of course ! Looking forward to it !” comes in, he still lets out a sigh of relief.

“See you then :) xx”

“ :) xx"

 

**Saturday, December 13 th, 2014.**

 

As Harry nears Niall’s flat, he can hear the Christmas music wafting through the crack of the door. It’s not particularly party-like, rather it is classic Christmas music, with crooning, gentle melodies. The first track sounds suspiciously like Michael Buble’s Christmas album, which, given Niall’s personality and general life interests, really doesn’t’t surprise Harry in the slightest. As he steps inside, and slings his scarf off his shoulders, he’s greeted by the smells of cinnamon and peppermint.

“Hello!” he calls out, and Niall is there in an instant. 

“Harry, my mate,” he exclaims, slinging an arm around Harry. “Glad you made it. Come on in!” He gestures up the landing stairs, before looking at the small bag in Harry’s arms. “Oh, and Secret Santa gifts can go on the table in the living room, under the tree.”

“This is quite classy,” Harry considers, as he steps into the main level of the apartment. “I was expecting a more….raucous affair, I think.”

“Well, we can all get raucous after a few pints, some mulled wine, and spiked eggnog,” Niall tells him. “But I like my Christmas warm, and cozy, and fun to start off, know?”

Harry does know. His favourite Christmas memories are gathering around with his family, drinking hot chocolate, and opening presents around the tree in his PJs. To him, that’s exactly what Christmas should feel like. “Yeah,” he says finally. This is nice.

Niall has set up a Christmas tree on his coffee table, surrounded by several small gifts, likely for the gift exchange, and Harry adds his to the pile. The tree looks suspiciously like Niall may have pulled it out of the ground and thrown it in a pot, and it is a little bit sad looking, yet it sparkles with lights, a tinfoil star, a few multicoloured balls, and some…

“Beer caps?”

“It just seemed right,” Niall confirms, and Harry accepts it. 

There are about a dozen people milling around the apartment, and Harry recognizes several of them. There’s Sandy, Jeff and Glenne. Harry makes his way over and awkwardly starts the question with the first thing that pops into his head.

“How does a snowman get around?” he asks, after a quick hello.

Glenne looks at him and cocks his head. “I…don’t know?” she asks, and Jeff and Sandy shrug.

“On an icicle!” Harry says enthusiastically. No one laughs, but Harry gives a chuckle for his own joke. He wonders where Louis is. It seems silly to be waiting around for him, as he’d told Harry h was going, but Harry can’t help but feel a bit antsy. After all, it’s possible that it’s the last time the two will see each other before Christmas, so Harry wants to make the best of it.

Jeff begins to engage the group in conversation, and Harry politely joins in, explaining his Christmas plans and complaining briefly about the severity of some of his exams, when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here, handsome,” a voice says, and Harry lights up, knowing exactly who it is.

“Louis!!” he exclaims, a little too enthusiastically. “I mean… uh, Louis! Good to see you!”

“Good to see you too,” Louis grins. “Have you gotten any mulled wine yet? Niall claims it’s good but I haven’t tried it yet meself.” 

“No, I haven’t actually. I was just thinking that maybe…”

“ …You would care to get some with me?” Louis extends his hand with a flourish and Harry giggles. 

“Yeah, okay! That would be lovely.”

They head off together to the kitchen, with Louis already telling a variety of animated stories, and Harry just wants to snuggle up into him and listen to him talk all day. They both grab mugs of mulled wine, which, Harry discovers is warm, and makes him feel cozy and snuggly, and casually head back to the living room. It’s weird - Harry has barely known Louis for two weeks, yet being at his side is the place he wants to be most, and suddenly everyone else seems boring and irrelevant. 

Louis pulls Harry over to a group of his friends at the party, and immediately joins in the conversation. When they notice Harry, he immediately grins and says, “Okay, so this is Harry. He’s pretty much the best guy you’ll ever meet so get used to seeing his face around. And Harry this is Zayn, Liam, Stan, and Aiden. They’re pretty cool too… I guess.” The one that Louis called Stan gestures as if to smack him up the side of the head, and Louis ducks. “Harry, looks like you’ll have to protect me from these menaces. Don’t worry - I won’t let them hurt you.”

Harry giggles, of course, because apparently that’s all he can do around Louis, but he can’t but feel a bit nervous. Sure he and Louis have been hanging out quite a bit, but this whole walking around together at a party, as casual as this party seems to be, feels different. It feels sort of relationship-y, especially the introducing to friends, an while Harry is excited by that, he’s also a bit nervous. Ed certainly doesn’t help this vibe, as when he arrives, he waltzes right over and says, “So, you must be Louis,” to which Louis extends a greeting handshake and says, “Hey, you’re Ed Sheeran, right? Big fan. And you’re Harry’s room-mate too, aren’t ya? Lucky, the both of you.” 

Ed’s smiling response has Harry just slightly mortified. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Harry is half a second away from hauling Ed away by his shockingly well-pressed collar when Louis beams. “All good things, I hope.”

“All good except that lettuce. Harry cried over the loss of that lettuce for weeks,” Ed winks.

“Heeeeeey!” Harry begins, but Louis snickers. “Good lad, that lettuce. But good on you for taking one for the team and putting it in its place. No one needs a weird lettuce that someone sent them in the post, I reckon.”

“You sent it to me!” Harry protests, but Louis pats him gently on the shoulder.

“All the more reason to throw it out, love. Can’t expect good things from me.” 

Louis’ eyelashes are so long.  Harry wants to stroke them. This is weird, and Harry probably needs to step away for a moment before he gets weird and ruins everything.

“Well, I’m gonna run to the loo,” he says quickly. “Hold my drink?”

“Careful or I might drink it all,” Louis jokes, as he reaches to take the drink.

“Eww germs,” Harry laughs, and Louis looks away shyly.

“For you, I think I’d deal,” he winks, and Harry flushes red.

Well, that wasn’t even a little bit subtle. Harry runs to the loo, which is, of course, occupied, and spends the next three minutes leaning on the wall outside the loo trying to convince himself how he can go about handling this situation. He likes Louis. He really _really_ likes Louis. He wants to date Louis. Why is he panicking? He pulls out his phone.

“Edddddddd save me.”

Ed replies quickly. “Where are you? What’s up?? Are you alright???”

“Why do you have your phone out at the party anyway? Loser. xx"

“You asked for help. Don’t judge me. Where are you?”

“By the loo.”

Harry feels a tap on his shoulder about thirty seconds later. “So, what’s up?”

“ _Louis likes me. Like, like-likes me.”_

Ed freezes and balks at Harry for a moment. “No shit. And this was news, why?”

“I have the emotional depth of a biscuit. How am I supposed to know how to handle this? He’s so wonderful, what if I fuck it up? I thought I was ready to date him, but suddenly I feel like maybe I’m not, and I haven’t had a proper relationship since first year and…”

The door to the loo opens, and a girl adorned in an ugly Christmas sweater and a pair of reindeer antlers walks out. Someone else seems to be waiting for the loo as well, so Harry waves them ahead and turns to Ed. “I…”

“Harry, breathe. Just breathe. You can do this. Just talk to him.”

“But I do talk to him already,” Harry exclaims. “I really do. I’m just… I’m gonna fuck it up. I’m gonna fuck it up aren’t I?”

“No,” Ed says firmly. “No you’re not. And don’t you dare tell yourself you are. Just go back out there, and hang out with him. You two are practically dating anyway. He’s all you talk about. Just go.”

Harry frowns slightly, and tilts his head, considering. The door to the loo opens. 

“Did you really have to go or—“ Ed asks, and Harry shakes his head. “Well get back out there then. And you’re gonna be fine.”

“What if he doesn’t like his Secret Santa gift?” Harry panics again.

“Then, you don’t have to admit it was from you, “ Ed teases. “Now, _go_.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Are you sure it will be okay?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yes, absolutely,” Ed says confidently. “You’re one of the best lads I know, and Louis will be lucky to have you. And, I think he knows that already, based on the way he looks at you.

Harry smiles, and exhales. He can do this.

Louis is chatting animatedly around the coffee table in the middle of the room with the one named Zayn, when Harry sidles back up beside him.

“Hey love, you’re back! I was just telling Zayn here what a good teacher you are,” Louis exclaims, handing Harry his drink. 

“Yeah, sounds like you’re pretty sweet,” Zayn drawls with a hint of a smile.

“This is an…interesting party, isn’t it?” Harry says, glancing around the room. There are well over thirty people present, but they’re all just talking civilly, sipping on cider, and hanging around. The music is relaxing and lilting, and it feels a lot more grown-up than the parties he’s attended at university.

“Yeah, I think Niall wanted this to start out like a family, adult party. We’ll get into the wild stuff later I’m sure,” Louis says, and he winks again, and Harry’s heart is going to stop because things are actually happening.

“Uh are you excited for Secret Santa?” Harry asks, and Louis’ face gets a strange look about it. 

“Uh..yeah. Yeah I am. I guess you could say that, yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, I think so!” Harry says with a smile. 

Before the conversation can continue farther, the sound of a glass clinking can be heard throughout the room, and everyone grows quiet.

“Welcome to the party everyone! Ho ho ho!” a santa-hat topped Niall says with a grin, and then laughs with glee as everyone turns to look at him. “I know this is a little weird, but I know not everyone gets to have a nice Christmas at home, so I wanted to start out calm and really get the feeling for the season, know? And then we can get the party going at the Craic House, yeah?” Everyone cheers. “Now, gather round children, just like Christmas morning. We’ll all open our gifts one by one, okay?”

It’s a different kind of feeling, but Harry will go for it. They all gather around the coffee table, and as Harry slides into a seat on the couch, Louis slips in next to him, with a grin. “Gonna get a present, yay! It feels like Christmas!” he exclaims with a mischievous grin, and Harry laughs way too hard. 

 People open their gifts one by one, and while there are a lot of nice gifts, none are quite so personal as what Harry made Louis. The usual choices are present: movies, CDs, candies, mittens, hot chocolate, and even a poster of one girl’s favourite, band, but Harry is confident that his gift can blow the others out of the water. When Niall hands Louis the gift marked with his name, Harry watches anxiously as Louis opens it.

Louis pulls out the banana first, and lets out a giggle. “Well, I feel like this here is something my friend to my right would like better than me,” he laughs, handing the banana to Harry. Everyone laughs, and Harry shrugs, because it’s not a lie. Louis pulls out the tea next, and smiles. “I’ve heard good things about this stuff!” he exclaims, reading the box. “I’ll have to try a spot before bed tonight.” He reaches in one more time, and pulls out the CD case, and this time he freezes. “Abso- _lou_ -tely Wonderful Mix,” he says slowly, his face unreadable. “This looks like fun!” he nods, “But hopefully whoever made it has good taste in music! I’m looking at all of you…” he laughs, glancing around the room quickly, but gaze lingering on Harry next to him, with a confused and amused facial expression on his face. “This is a great gift! Thank-you so much!”

It certainly seems like Louis liked the gift, but Harry had thought he would pin it on him almost immediately, so it puzzles him that that didn’t happen. As the next few people open their gifts, Louis fiddles with the tea box, looking at it, reading little bits, and pointing things out to Harry, while jestingly complaining about the banana. Yet, he never reveals that he thinks Harry gave him the gift, so Harry will have to try to find a way to explain it later, or wait until Louis listens to the CD and finds it out for himself.

Harry begins to opens his Secret Santa gift and gasps. First there is a little songwriting notebook, with a small baggy of picks covered in print of a variety of fruits on them. They’re really neat, and Harry laughs in delight as he admires them, but he notices that there is still something else in the bag, wrapped carefully in tissue paper. He gently unwraps it, and gasps. It’s a little Christmas tree ornament - a wire heart, with golden music notes dangling from it. It’s beautiful, and Harry turns the ornament over in his hand, again and again, before noticing that the heart is inscribed with words. He looks closely, and smiles at how sweet it is:  “all my dreams are truly begun”. He knows this line, and he knows it well - but is is it from?

All of a sudden, he sees it clear as day before him - Louis, standing on the stage, hand pressed to hisdiaphragm, singing with that perfect little smile, “ _And oh….my dearest love, if you will take my love then all my dreams are truly begun.”_   He looks at the ornament one more time, and then turns to his left.

“…Louis?” he asks tentatively, and Louis breaks into a massive grin. 

“Yeah, H?” he asks, biting his lip. 

“You’re the absolute best thing to have happened to me in a longtime,” he finally bursts out, and Louis looks like he might explode from grinning so big. 

“All my dreams, are truly begun?” 

“Oh my god Louis! You’re so…”  Harry exclaims, and wraps Louis in a huge embrace. Harry’s heart races as he squeezes him tight, and then Louis’ hand slips to his face and gently pulls him in even closer.  When their lips meet, and it’s like a thousand fireworks going off all around them. Louis tastes of mulled wine, and the glorious cumulation of three amazing weeks, and Harry couldn’t be happier. They press together with happy, but urgent little kisses until they’re interrupted by a loud wolf whistle.

“Shit,” Harry whispers, as scattered applause and cheers echo around them, and they break apart, embarrassed. Niall is standing triumphantly applauding, a huge grin on his face. 

“Well look at this,” he declares, still clapping. “I _knew_ this would work out!” 

“Niall, you loveable bastard; you set us up, didn’t you?” Louis asks, his voice half accusing, and half filled with admiration.

“Damn right I did,” Niall announces proudly, and Harry intertwines his fingers with Louis’. “And you lot can’t complain because I am the _best_ matchmaker ever, and no one should ever say otherwise.”

Harry giggles and leans in for another kiss. “To Niall!” he proclaims, raising his banana in the air. 

“To Niall!” everyone exclaims, raising their beverages or whatever they happened to be holding at the moment. 

“To us?” Louis whispers to Harry, squeezing his hand.

“To something extraordinary,” Harry confirms with smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm on tumblr....but you'll never find me, mwahaha! (welllll...until my identity is revealed). (JK I'm [ OG ](http://harrybirthdaytoya.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you have something to say I'd love to hear your comments :)
> 
> ALSO if you're curious about that weird upbeat part in With You, or what the song is like in general (it's like this weird, promiscuous sex song, lol, that sounds like a love song.), have the 1981 cast doing it [ here! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=139lPgi9gy8)


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